Mountain Man
by JJJJ12
Summary: Molly plans a visit to the Swiss Alps with two friends, but a storm derails their arrival. Now expecting a quiet holiday alone, Molly has no idea what to make of a soaking wet Sherlock Holmes at her doorstep. TWO-SHOT.
1. An Unexpected Guest

Four years, eight months, two weeks, and three days.

That was the last time Molly Hooper had taken a proper holiday. Of course, she had taken days off since then, but she meant a _real_ holiday. Not a day to get her wisdom teeth removed. Not a day to have her heater fixed. Not a day to watch Rosamund Watson while John and Sherlock were off doing god knows what. Not even a day to eat ice cream and watch crappy telly.

Molly deserved a real, bone-meltingly relaxing good holiday, and by god she was finally getting one!

Just her, two of her best friends from University, and a gorgeous cabin two hours south of Zurich. She had a full five days to take in the gorgeous snow-covered Alps, indulge in wine and carb-loaded food, catch up on her favorite novels, and be treated to an endless array of massages and relaxation.

Her hired car winded up the narrow, snow covered road and stopped in front of the astounding cabin, adorned with huge windows and the finest wood carvings she had ever seen. Molly quickly tipped the man and grabbed her bags, filled with warm clothes and groceries galore, taking no time to race into her beautiful accommodation.

She practically squealed in excitement as she entered the cabin, her eyes shifting from the modern kitchen, to the cozy sitting room with light pouring in from the huge windows, to the fire roaring in the fire place that the resort must have started in anticipation of her arrival.

Molly dropped her suitcase and fell onto a cozy chair, still looking around the room in fascination. She quickly grabbed her mobile and switched it on, knowing that Sarah and Lily would be taking off soon. Both women were flying in from Manchester, and unlike Molly were unable to take the day off, and thus were arriving later in the day.

She kicked off her boots and propped her legs up, letting her fuzzy socks rub against the soft material of the ottoman across from her. She hummed as she flipped through her phone, until a text message popped up and dampened her happy spirits.

 _Bad storm coming your way. All flights to Zurich cancelled for the evening. So sorry Molls. Hopefully we'll be on a flight tomorrow. – Lilypad_

Molly frowned and dropped her phone. She cursed and brought her knees to her chest, carefully considering the situation. Here she was, finally on a much-needed holiday, excited to catch up with her friends, and now, she was alone for at least the first night.

Yet, it certainly wasn't the worst of circumstances.

 _At least I made it._

She laughed at her own selfishness and shifted in the chair, snuggling into the top of it. She would just have to make do with the situation. She'd make herself a lovely dinner, put on the plushy dressing gown that the listing had promised, and read a nice romance novel until she fell asleep.

 _Oh yes, that would do!_

Xxx

A few hours later and Molly was sprawled across one of the love seats, dressed in only a white dressing gown, drinking a glass of red wine. She shut her eyes for a movement and moaned, enjoying the warmth coming from the large fireplace, as well as her current novel.

She had picked this novel up at a shop in the airport, delighted by its promise of a girl meeting a handsome mountain man and being beautifully, gloriously fucked by the big hunk of man meat.

She sighed and turned the page, praying for her own big mountain man to come along, dressed in boots and flannel with the promise of chopping wood and making her curls toe.

A knock at the door caused her to shut her book and sit up. She gazed at her mobile, doublechecking that Lily and Sarah were certainly not yet in Switzerland, before rising to her feet. She swallowed and slowly moved to the door, knowing that one of two people were behind that door.

The first and most likely choice was a serial killer, here to murder English tourists and drink their wine.

The second, and her personal preference, would be to find a tall, nicely built Swiss man by the name of Luca promising to both keep the fire roaring in the fireplace and in her core.

She sighed and swung open the door, practically screaming in surprise when her eyes met the man in front of her.

 _You've got to be kidding me._

Sherlock bloody Holmes stood in front of her, his Belstaff covered in heavy flurries, his curly hair weighted down from the moisture of the snow. His cheeks were an adorable shade of red, and based on the calf high dampness of his trousers, he had been trudging through snow to get here.

 _Ha. Take that. I can deduce too._

Sherlock cleared his throat and looked at Molly questioningly.

"Well? May I come in?"

Molly just blinked, evidently surprised by his question. She simply moved to the side and let him enter, her eyes still locked on his muscled form.

Sherlock set a small briefcase beside the door, before slipping his shoes and socks off, careful to lay his socks across one of the heaters. Next came his equally as soaking wet gloves, scarf and Belstaff, until he stood in only his relatively damp dress shirt and trousers.

Molly glanced at his bare feet, practically blushing.

Something about seeing his bare feet seemed so… intimate. He looked almost naked.

He turned to face her, his eyes dropping from her bun to her dressing gown, and back up to her face. Molly blushed and tried to tighten the dressing gown more, suddenly wishing that she hadn't been wandering around naked and was instead in warm pyjamas.

"Where are Lily Brown and Sarah Evans?" He asked, before wandering into the kitchen and examining her leftover spaghetti Bolognese that she had yet to put away.

"They're stuck in Manchester. The storm—" She paused and narrowed her eyes. "Sherlock, how do you know which friends are joining me? And where I was staying? Or, better question, why are you here?"

Sherlock sat on one of the stools and grabbed a fork, beginning the eat the pasta. He paused to chew, making a face that suggested it wasn't awful.

 _Yippee. The big baby can stomach my cooking._

"Molly, you're not exactly difficult to read or predict. Your cat's name and your birthday is not a safe email password," he took a moment to eat another forkful before continuing, "obviously I saw the other two names on your reservation in your inbox, and after digging, discovered that they are your university friends, currently employed as a dentist and publicist, respectfully. If you're not aware, Sarah had a hair appointment earlier this morning, and Lily is currently involved with a man called Rory that she met on Tinder."

Molly grumbled and grabbed her wine, taking a gulp to calm her nerves. She stormed into the kitchen and pulled the plate away from Sherlock, causing the detective to give her the same look a puppy would upon being kicked, or a toddler, upon being chastised.

"I didn't say you could eat. And again, you haven't answered my question. Why are you here?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and rose back to his feet, quickly entertaining himself by moving through the cabinets. Once finding a box of biscuits, he dropped back down and began opening the box.

"Well, it's quite simple, really. Mycroft has discovered that we let one, and only one, member of Moriarty's network fly by undetected. John and I managed to trace her in Paris, where I discovered a brothel of massacred prostitutes. It was a rather unpleasant scene. Anyhow, we have reason to believe she is heading towards Munich, but only for a temporary stay."

Sherlock quickly ate a biscuit, before continuing his story. "John had to return home to Rosie, but I continued on. I knew about your pending holiday in Switzerland, and given our proximity to Munich, I decided it would be doable to stop by for the evening. It would appear that I could use your brain."

Molly just blinked, trying to process all the information Sherlock had jammed into only seven sentences.

"You need my help?"

"Need is relative, Molly. I rarely need anything. But, with the knowledge that she is a woman in similar build to yourself, more investigation into her style of killing would be helpful. I don't trust the autopsies performed by the French."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose and ate another biscuit. "My flight to Zurich got in a few hours ago, and it started to snow heavily, so much so that I couldn't get my taxi to drive me down the tiny road to the cottage. I needed to walk a mile and a half in heavy snow!"

Molly began to heat water, looking over at Sherlock with a quirked eyebrow. "Why, Sherlock, I thought you rarely _needed_ to do anything."

He snarled. "Might you have some compassion for my long journey here? It's cold and wet outside."

Molly rolled her eyes and grabbed two mugs from the cupboards, as well as tea bags. "Compassion? Sherlock, you're asking me to do work on my holiday."

Sherlock ate another biscuit and gave her an exasperated look. "I'm trying to put an end to the criminal activities of your psychotic ex-lover and you're complaining about looking at some dead bodies while on holiday?"

Molly sighed and dropped the tea bags in the water, before moving to stand against the kitchen island. She placed a cup in front of Sherlock and grabbed a biscuit for herself, knowing both alcohol and sugar would be needed to survive the evening.

"Jim was not my lover. We went on three dates and were never intimate," Molly grabbed a cup of sugar and sighed, "At any rate, yes, I am complaining. This getaway was a chance to catch up with friends who I see once a year if I'm lucky, and escape the real world through wine, chocolate, and trashy novels. Not to assist you in a case."

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. "I really don't see the enjoyment in that."

Molly sighed and added some sugar to her tea. "I didn't expect you too."

He scowled at her words and ate another biscuit, looking suspiciously like a child not getting what he wanted. He looked around the large cabin before back at Molly.

"I won't be able to leave until at least the morning, perhaps later. They're expecting even more snow than usual. When I arrived, all the flights in Zurich had been grounded."

Molly just shut her eyes and shook her head, wondering how Sherlock always managed to insert himself in every situation.

"Lovely. Just lovely. I'll send you a bill then. This place wasn't exactly cheap."

Sherlock glared and took another sip of tea, sending Molly an accusatory look.

"You should be thankful for my arrival. It is hardly safe or appropriate for a woman to be alone in a house in the mountains."

Molly practically snorted and sipped her tea. "Appropriate? My god, what year is it? Shall we discuss propriety now? My lack of chaperone?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and sipped his tea. "That's hardly what I meant. I just mean…. It's best for you to have company."

Molly rolled her eyes and opened the freezer, pulling out a tub of ice cream. She grabbed a spoon and dove in, ignoring Sherlock's watchful gaze.

"And, to be clear, I would have much preferred to open the door to Luca."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Who is Luca?"

Molly sighed and licked the vanilla ice cream off the silver utensil, "Oh, nobody important. Just the gorgeous, Swiss man of my dreams."

Sherlock set his cup down and continued to watch Molly, his eyes flickering between her pink lips and the ice cream covered spoon.

"Come again?"

Molly laughed and ate another spoonful, glancing away from the tub to give Sherlock a teasing look. "What? Is it so wrong for me to imagine a fit, Swiss bloke knocking on the door and adding some fire to my evening?"

Sherlock blinked, his blue eyes getting hazy, indicating to Molly that he was, as John described it, buffering.

 _Good. Serves him right._

She practically snorted and ate another spoonful, washing down the cold dessert with a sip of wine.

"But, I don't anticipate Luca arriving, especially with you here," she began to clean up the kitchen island, placing the pasta into the fridge, "You should go wash up. Your pants are wet and tracking water."

Sherlock flinched and finally looked back at her, his cheeks slightly red. He nodded and rose to his feet. "Very well. I'll take a shower. When I finish, I expect you to look at my bodies, Molly."

Molly snorted again. "Expect me? Haven't we gone over manners, Sherlock?"

He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "Would you consider looking at my bodies?"

She gave him another look.

He groaned. "Would you _please_ consider looking at my bodies?"

Molly smirked and shrugged. "We'll see."

Molly sauntered back into the sitting room and grabbed her book, quickly immersing herself into the sexy fantasy land of the forests of Washington state and a handsome mountain man who resided within. Sherlock, in the meantime, sent a glare her way before disappearing down the hallway and into the bathroom.

As soon as Molly heard the water turn on, she leaned back and shut her eyes.

She had a feeling that the evening was going to be interesting.

 _I'm going to need more wine._

 _To be continued…._


	2. A Game of Peekaboo

**Note: Sorry for the delay! I've been writing some new stuff, but I owe you guys the second half of this. So, please enjoy**

 _Hazy, blue eyes bored into hers. Skilled hands caressed her bare hips as soft lips trailed down her sensitive neck. She barely let a moan escape before his lips met hers in a determined fury, his soft curls tickling her face like the best massage she had ever received._

 _She made quick work of his trousers, wrapping her hand around a gorgeously engorged piece of man meat, practically having her first orgasm of the night at the sound of his breathless whisper of "Molly."_

 _She wasted no time, her hands moving in a rhythmic manner, her lips now leaving marks along his pale neck._

" _Molly," he gasped again, his hands moving to her arms, gently running up and down the exposed skin. She tossed her head back, loving the feel of skin on skin, the feeling of her hand grasping his cock._

" _Molly!" This time more determined, more passionate. She let out a cry and kissed him again, feeling his body tensing, knowing he was close. And oh, she was so close too. Just a few more kisses, a few more caresses, another breathy whisper of—_

"MOLLY!"

She bolted up from the sofa, holding her dressing gown tightly to her body. She blinked a few times, adjusting her eyes to the dimmed lighting of the room. She sighed and looked up, unsurprised to see a perturbed Sherlock, clad in only a white dressing gown, identical to the one on her own body.

"Yes? What was so important that you had to wake me up?" She asked, rising to her feet to make yet another pot of tea.

 _Who am I kidding? I'll need the caffeine. Sherlock isn't going to let me sleep anytime soon._

He narrowed his eyes, giving her a quintessential Sherlock look.

"Must we go over this again?"

She only glared in return, causing him to growl and throw his arms out in exasperation.

"Moriarity's web. Dead prostitutes. Trip to Munich. New autopsy. Ring any bells in that empty head of yours, Molly?"

She just shook her head, patiently preparing a cup of tea for herself. "Sherlock, did your mum ever tell you that expression about honey?"

He blinked, his eyes devoutly focused on her. "Man produces evil as a bee produces honey."

She was so surprised by his response that she nearly spilled the boiling water on herself. She shot him an incredulous look over her shoulder, to which Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued.

"William Golding. English novelist. Wrote 'Lord of the Flies'. Keep with it, Molly."

She groaned and leaned against the counter, sending him daggers. "No, you irritating prat! You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar."

She mumbled to herself and dumped a spoonful of sugar into her tea. "It means that you make more friends by being nice, Sherlock."

"I don't follow."

"Of course, you wouldn't. But, perhaps if you'd like my help, you wouldn't accuse me of having an empty head."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and plopped down onto the sofa, spreading his long legs across the coffee table. "Does it matter? You've made it abundantly clear that you aren't interested in helping me."

 _Deep breaths, Molly. Deep breaths._

She walked back into the sitting room, rubbing her temple with her unoccupied hand. "No, Sherlock, it's not that. You can't intrude on my holiday and simply expect—"

She stopped speaking as her gaze landed on Sherlock's relaxed form, her eyes practically bulging out of her head. Sherlock looked at her curiously.

"Yes, Molly?"

"Jesus, Sherlock!" She managed to squeak out, covering her eyes with her hand. Her face had gone a lovely shade of red. Well, not just her face. Most of her exposed skin, to be precise.

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow and gazed down at his body, discovering his offense. His dressing gown had unraveled, giving Molly an open view from his neck to his ankles. He rolled his eyes and fixed it.

"You perform autopsies for a living. You also have 'loads of sex'. Don't act like you have never encountered the male form before," he remarked, maintaining a bored expression, although his body heated at the sight of Molly's flushed features.

She just shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. "Seeing an old fat bloke's shriveled up penis is not the same as having your cock all over the bloody sofa!" She stammered out, her cheeks turning even redder.

Sherlock just raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. But, perhaps if you didn't read filth," he leaned across the coffee table, picking up a crisp novel with an extremely buff man wearing a torn flannel shirt, "You would not flush at the simple sight of a penis."

Her mouth dropped. She stormed over to Sherlock and grabbed the book, holding it to her chest. "Oh, piss off Sherlock! I can read whatever I bloody want. And that's brilliant coming from you!"

He laid back on the sofa, yawning. "Out with it, Molly. I'm tired and we still have a case to solve."

She sputtered and grabbed a throw pillow, hitting him in the arm. He sat up and rubbed the skin, glaring at her.

"You're all talk! At the sight of a lush set of tits," she bit her lip and continued, "or a fit bloke since I'm not quite sure what does it for you, you'd be blushing just as hard!"

Sherlock glared and crossed his arms. "I thought you'd realize by now Molly that I do not preoccupy myself with such childish behaviors like getting embarrassed at the sight of skin, regardless of how sexually appealing a woman is."

 _Okay. He likes women. That's a start._

She threw her hands in the air, desperately needing a break from the irritating git on her sofa. She grabbed her novel and turned on her heels, her nose high in the air.

"I'm going to take a shower. I can't be around you. And maybe, if the orgasm I have in there is strong enough, I might be in good enough of a mood to assist you when I finish."

Not waiting to see his response, she stormed out of the room, determined to let the hot water and delicious vibrations of her favorite toy wash away the stress Sherlock had created.

At the sound of the bathroom door slamming, Sherlock sunk deeper into the sofa, his mind caught on her words. His eyes hazed over, his brain desperately trying to keep up.

…

No use at all. That was the second buffering of the evening.

Xxx

When Molly strolled out of the bathroom, approximately thirty minutes later, she had new excitement pulsing through her veins. She wasn't sure if it was the desperately needed cleanse of the hot water, or just the benefit a good orgasm had on the brain.

Either way, she wanted to give Sherlock a lesson.

Her idea was stupid. Careless. Dr. Molly Hooper would not approve.

But, she was on holiday. And what happened in the Swiss Alps, stayed in the Swiss Alps.

With that in mind, she strolled into the kitchen, grabbing her discarded glass of wine and taking a generous sip. She hiccupped and looked down at the cozy white dressing gown, carefully unknotting the cloth belt.

And then, in the warmth of the cabin, she dropped the protection to the ground, sticking her chin up as she felt the air hit her exposed skin.

She strolled to the sitting room, watching Sherlock focus intently on a medical journal that he had clearly nicked from her handbag, and took one last breath of air. Then, with as much confidence as she could muster, she appeared in front of him.

"Sherlock, would you consider asking permission before you read my work materials?" She asked, nibbling on her lip.

He didn't bother to look up, still tucked into the sofa. He turned the page and yawned. "Molly, you pay eighteen pounds a year for this subscription. I highly doubt my reading affects its worth all that much."

"Sherlock," she hissed out, moving her hands to her hips, "When will you learn?"

At her tone, he finally glanced up, his eyes widening in surprise. He shut the journal and set it on the coffee table, flicking his gaze between the roaring fire and Molly's smooth skin.

Had she always had such lovely skin? She had lovely, pert breasts, shapely hips, toned legs, and a deliciously heart-shaped bum. Sherlock looked at her arse and cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet Molly's eyes.

"Is there a reason why you're naked?" He asked, his voice calm.

She shrugged and dropped on a seat across from him, stretching her body in the process. She let out a soft moan and shut her eyes, enjoying the feel of the fire hitting her exposed skin.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, desperately trying (but ultimately failing) to keep his gaze steady on hers.

"Molly." He began, his voice still as bored as ever, "Put your dressing gown on."

"Nope," she replied, popping her 'p' with a teenage like enthusiasm for disobedience. "What does it matter if I'm naked, Sherlock? Nudity is natural. Besides, you said you don't get embarrassed at the sight of skin."

Sherlock cleared his throat and looked back at the fire. "I don't," He managed out, his voice wavering for the first time that evening.

She just smirked. "Right. So, I'll go about my business, naked, and you'll go about yours. Okay?"

"No. Put the dressing gown on."

Molly raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, pushing her breasts up in the process. "And why should I do that, Sherlock?"

His gaze dropped down to her breasts, before hurriedly returning to her eyes. He shifted in his seat. "You're going to get cold. It's bloody snowing outside, Molly."

"But in here," She began, now fiddling with her hair, "It's toasty and warm."

Sherlock growled and leaned forward, his eyes turning angry. "Molly. I will give you this order one final time. Put. The. Dressing. Gown. On." His eyes flickered down to her naked body, before back to her eyes.

"Now."

Molly just laughed and tied her hair up, her eyes locked on Sherlock's. "Why? Are you embarrassed?"

He scowled and stood up. "I'm not bloody embarrassed by—"

The sound of her gasp had him swallowing his words. He looked over at Molly, who had turned a stellar shade of red, and was presently staring at his midsection. He took a shuttering breath and looked down, confirming his own concerns.

"It appears I'm aroused." He mumbled instead, evidently _now_ embarrassed to meet her gaze.

For Molly, it was verging on impossible to tear her eyes from Sherlock's very excited erection, poking between the flaps of his dressing gown like an X-rated game of peek-a-boo. To both her delight and mortification, it was the most beautiful penis she had ever seen, delightfully long and thick.

 _Oh, who am I kidding? That's a fucking cock and a perfect one at that!_

Molly clumsily climbed out of the chair and landed on her feet, her gaze still locked on Sherlock's exposed cock. She cleared her throat, before finally meeting his eyes.

"That's—that's okay." She stammered out, back to gnawing on her lip, "I rather you aroused than embarrassed."

"Is that so?" He replied, his eyes now shamelessly memorizing every inch of Molly's naked form.

 _Yes. This will be useful later._

"Maybe we can make a deal," She began, taking small steps to Sherlock's form, standing rigidly in front of the sofa.

Sherlock quirked his head, still watching her. "What kind of deal?"

"I'll help you with the case," she started, stopping her movements when she stood right in front of him, close enough that his cock brushed against her exposed belly, "If and only if you let me fix that," her eyes dropped down to his cock.

He swallowed and looked down at her, hypnotized by her chocolate eyes. "I have a condition."

"Are you really in a bargaining position?" She retorted, her hand wrapping around his exposed cock, causing him to let out a muffled curse.

He moaned softly and forced himself to focus. "For once, I would like to play fair. If I fix that, then you let me fix you."

"I don't need fixing," She immediately shot back, her hand squeezing his engorged length.

Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle as he moved his hands to her backside, kneading her perfect arse in his much larger hands. At the sound of her surprised squeal, he moved his ministrations to her thighs, until one hand had slipped between the soft skin. His fingers grazed across the heated, very wet flesh, causing his face to contort into a pleased smirk.

She gasped and tossed her head back, but continued to squeeze his sensitive skin.

"Oh, fuck. Fine," She moaned, before shoving him quite forcibly towards the sofa.

Sherlock let out a grunt as he collapsed onto the sofa, only alone for a moment before Molly climbed on top of him, shoving his dressing down off his shoulders to fully admire his nude form.

He took the moment to capture her lips, savoring the delicious kiss from his favorite pathologist. His hands had roamed from her chest to her thighs, and he was currently experiencing a sensory overload from the smells and sensations of her body.

Molly continued to pull at his hardened cock, grinding her wet flesh into his thick thigh. She moaned and bit his lip, moving her free hand to his curly locks. Sherlock groaned and began to plant soft kisses down her neck.

"I arouse you," Molly moaned out, pressing soft kisses all over his face, her hands still busy with his cock.

He let out another groan, placing his hand over hers, desperate to slow down her ministrations, and as a result, their evening. He kissed her lips softly, before continuing down a path towards her breasts.

"Of course, you do," he muttered, his lips wrapping around one of her pebbled nipples, "There's nothing more attractive than an intelligent woman."

She squealed and pulled his hair, continuing to grind her body into his thigh, the feeling of his lips around her nipple becoming too much for her over sensitized body. She rose to her knees and moved forward, rubbing the tip of his cock along her wet slit.

Sherlock gasped and buried his face in her neck, his hands grabbing onto her hips. He forced himself to meet her gaze, their eyes equally as glazed over.

"Are you sure?" He managed out, hissing as she continued to rub him against her wet core.

She caught his lips in another hungry kiss before sinking onto his length, letting out a desperate cry at the feeling of being absolutely filled. She used to think comments as such in romance novels were absolutely ludicrous, but after feeling Sherlock's cock deep inside her, she knew there was something to it.

Sherlock dug his fingers into her hips, helping the dynamic brunette begin to move against his cock. She let out sharp cries as he dropped his hand to her core, rubbing at the engorged nub, his eyes locked on hers. She pulled him into another hungry kiss, pulling desperately at his curls for balance.

He wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the feeling of her breasts against his chest, and the sight of her riding his body. More, hot wet kisses, descended along her form, before again occupying her chest. His hand continued a brutal pace on her clit, causing endless squeals and cries on Molly's end.

With one final pull at his curls, Molly let out a scream, her body thrashing back and forth on Sherlock's muscular form. He too let out a cry, pulling her against him, burying his face in her soft hair as he lost control.

Together, they tried to catch their breath, gasping for air as they came back down to earth, their highs finally wearing off. Molly let out another moan and kissed his jaw, a content smile overtaking her features. Sherlock met her gaze and couldn't help but chuckle, tickled by her own response.

He shifted their bodies so they laid across the sofa and grabbed the throw pillow from the edge, tossing it across their bodies. Molly snuggled into him, burying her face in his neck. She let out another content sigh and grinned.

They remained in silence for at least twenty minutes, just enjoying the pulsing of their bodies, and each other's heart beats. Molly was busily drawing shapes on his exposed chest, nibbling on her lip as she thought about their evening.

Sherlock had buried a hand in her hair, happily letting the silky-smooth locks tangle against his fingers. When he heard her begin to shift, he looked down, smiling when her big brown eyes met his.

"Yes?" He asked, his voice soft and relaxed.

"You planned this, didn't you?" Molly watched him curiously, immediately regretting her words as soon as they escaped her lips.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Why would you think that?"

"A few reasons."

He sighed and shook his head. "By all means. Continue."

She cleared her throat and began to play with his curls. "Well, first of all, it's not exactly economical to go from Paris to the bloody Swiss Alps if your target is going to Munich, now is it? That's an unnecessary detour. I understand you wanted my help but… You could have emailed over the autopsies if it were that important."

Molly grasped a handful of the soft hairs, contently letting them slip through her fingers. "Then, of course, you got quite a lot of information about my friends, which was a bit unnecessary, don't you think?"

She yawned and let go of the hair, dragging her hands down to rest on his chest. She gave him a small smile, her cheeks a beautiful shade of red.

"But, most of all, you never leave things unfinished. As if you'd let a part of Moriarity's web slip through the cracks."

Sherlock sighed and shut his eyes. "I was right. There is nothing more attractive than an intelligent woman."

Molly giggled and bit her lip, before smacking his chest. He let out a groan.

"You git! You ruined my holiday with my girlfriends so you could shag me?!"

He sighed and rubbed his chest. "I didn't create a snowstorm. In fact, if I hadn't shown up, you'd be alone and miserable tonight."

She blinked, contemplating his words. "How were you going to get me alone then? You couldn't have caused a snow storm!"

Sherlock grinned. "I didn't. I had it set up so that your mates would be booted off their flight in exchange for thousand-pound vouchers. If anything, I was doing them a generous favor. The snow just saved me some money."

Molly sighed and mumbled to herself, unbelieving of the man underneath her.

"So, you _were_ planning on ruining my holiday. Mother nature just beat you to it."

"Precisely. So, I can't be at fault here."

She smacked his chest again. "This isn't over. You tricked me!"

He smirked. "No, Molly, you tricked me. I was planning on seducing you with other… methods. But, it appears you beat me to the punch."

Her mouth dropped open. "Other methods? What other methods?"

Sherlock grinned and just shut his eyes, ignoring the woman on top of him, who continued to smack his chest.

"You prat! You tell me right now what you had in mind!"

Sherlock laughed and let her continue, until exhaustion finally claimed her. It was only then that he wrapped his arms back around her, pulling her into his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to her head and drifted off to sleep.

Xxx

Sarah and Lily gave their driver one final wave as they approached the door of the cabin, in beyond good moods. The trip had started off poorly—a snowstorm had derailed their flights yesterday evening—and then only got worse when they were told that the 7am flight this morning was over booked, and the two of them would have to forfeit their seats.

When Lily had stormed the desk, demanding to know why the two of them were picked to abandon their seats, she was immediately quieted by two cheques sliding her way, each written for a thousand pounds. Upon reuniting with Sarah, they exploded into squeals, immediately discussing what holiday to take with the money over two overpriced mimosas at the airport bar.

At any rate, they were finally at the lovely cabin, excited to catch up with Molly. Sarah plugged the code listed on their confirmation email into the keypad, and strolled inside, Lily following behind. They both dropped their bags, although Lily paused and gave her best friend a curious glance.

"What?" Sarah asked, slipping out of her coat.

Lily motioned to the pair of rather expensive men's shoes sitting by the door. Sarah raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Deciding to be quiet as they were unsure if Molly was still asleep, they moved into the kitchen.

While Lily moved to make herself some tea, Sarah took a step into the sitting room. At the sight of her other best friend, wrapped in the arms of a familiar looking curly haired bloke, she couldn't help but let out a surprised scream.

Lily ran into the room, holding a knife (she was always prepared for the worst), while the couple on the sofa bolted up, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. When Molly locked eyes with Sarah, she let out a squeal and held the blanket to her exposed chest.

"Sa-Sarah! Lily! You lot made it!" She sputtered out, looking between Sherlock's amused expression and her friends' wide eyes.

"Um…." Sarah motioned to Sherlock, "What in the bloody fuck is this about? You shagged on the sofa?"

Molly bit her lip. "Uh. Sarah, Lily, this is Sherlock Holmes."

Before either girl could respond, Sherlock gently pushed Molly off his body and rose to his feet, uncaring of his nude form. With a grin, he gave a wave to both women.

"Pleasure. Now, if you'd excuse me, I'll be freshening up."

With that, Sherlock disappeared down the hallway, all three women staring after him, their mouth agape.

"Molly!" Lily squeaked out.

"Did you see that size of that cock?" Sarah asked, extremely serious.

Lily gave her a look. "Jesus, Sarah!"

"I'm just saying!" She spat back, before looking over at Molly with a glint in her eye, "You did well last night, I reckon."

"Nice arse, too." Lily added, a grin across her lips.

"Say, he split you in two? I once fucked this bloke called Tim, and I swear he almost broke me!" Sarah added, to which Lily immediately jumped after.

"Tim! More like and his twin brother, Robbie. Just about let 'em split roast you, didn't you?"

"I didn't _almost_ let them. I _did_ let them."

Molly groaned and hurried out of the room, ignoring the lewd conversation of her best friends. When she met the closed door of the bathroom, she bit her lip and slipped inside, immediately meeting the hard chest of a grinning Sherlock Holmes.

"Took you long enough." Was all he offered, before pulling her into another kiss.

Molly squealed as he dragged her into the shower, only one thought running through her mind.

 _Thank god Luca didn't show up. Sherlock was exactly the mountain man I had in mind._

 _ **The End**_


End file.
